


Corfu

by Delphi



Category: Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Outdoor Sex, Smut, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-01-01
Updated: 2003-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-05 16:39:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delphi/pseuds/Delphi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Josiah and Ezra lounging in the sun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Corfu

**Author's Note:**

> Exact date of publication unknown.

He and Ezra on the beach at Corfu. Stretched out in the sun, naked. Perfect.

Ezra has been drinking lemonade. The inside of Josiah's mouth tastes like ouzo, but his lips are sticky and sour and sweet.

It is unbelievably hot.

The sky is that dark polarized blue unseen outside of the Eastern Hemisphere. Occasional puffs of hot wind blow little spumes of white sand around them. The only noise is the blood-rush and heart-thump of the sea. Josiah is a little drunk, pleasantly so, and he can feel the sand shifting beneath their blanket. His hair is stiff with salt and sun; Ezra's is soft and damp, curling a little.

Josiah rolls over onto his side to get a better look at Ezra, who's lying flat on his back, legs crossed at the ankles. The sun is shining off his pale skin in a greasy, hazy way. Ezra's nipples are brown and crinkled in the heat, and Josiah leans down and puts his lips around the nearest one. It tastes like the cocoa powder he used to filch from his grandmother's pantry—like it should be chocolate but isn't sweet. And that's absolutely dandy too. Josiah has no problem with things that look one way but are really another. Ezra is perfect just the way he is. His nipple is the perfect shape for Josiah's tongue, his stomach the perfect surface for Josiah's hand. His moans are pebbly like the surf over the shore.

But then, Ezra could be wetter. Without taking his mouth off his nipple, Josiah feels around in the sand until he finds his glass. A splash of ouzo trickles down Ezra's side and pools in his navel. The liquor should be bubbling in this heat, but it's cool when he laps it up. Salted from Ezra's skin, like a Mexican cocktail.

Ezra's stomach is pushing up against his mouth. He slides his hand down through the crisp curls and gives Ezra's cock a squeeze.

Ezra's cock tastes like ouzo too, because Josiah had been taking mouthfuls of it between sucking him off not two hours ago. He considers scooting down on the blanket and having another taste. But. He's dug himself into a nice groove in the sand, and Ezra's chest tastes like the salt of the earth. And he especially likes to be able to watch Ezra's face when he's coming. It makes him feel like a god—Zeus maybe, having plucked his own Ganymede out of the field.

Ezra, meanwhile, is soaking up his touch along with the sun—uncrossing his ankles, spreading his legs, arching up against Josiah's hand and mouth. The ouzo has dried into his skin. His whispered moans are amazing. "Oh...yes..."

Josiah's cock is stiffening up again. His whole body is buzzing in the heat. If he were to shift close and rub up against Ezra's hip, he'd be on his way to orgasm in a minute, so it's a good thing he doesn't.

He takes his mouth off Ezra's nipple and lets his hand enjoy itself—sweating a little, sliding all around Ezra's cock, up and down, over the head, skin so soft and fragile over the hardness underneath. Nice. He keeps his touch light and slow, occasionally dipping down to circle Ezra's balls until they tighten up. Very nice.

Ezra is a wonderful man to make love to. It's just so easy to make him feel good in ways that no one else has ever bothered to teach him. Josiah's not Ezra's first man, but he's not very far from it either. This makes him feel...amazing, and for a while he closes his eyes and sees through his fingers. For a while there's nothing but his hand and Ezra's skin and the rhythm of the sea. For a long, beautiful while...

Then the part of him that is not a god but a man calls him back, and he's aware of everything again. It is unbelievably hot. There is sand between his toes. He's very close to coming. Ezra is moaning now, head thrown back, one heel pushing down into the blanket, grinding himself into the sand. Begging, or praying. And he knows that Ezra's in his perfect place too, hips flowing in time with the sea.

Josiah loves this part.

This is the part where everything snaps and shudders and Ezra cries out raggedly with the surf and then everything just freezes for a moment—perfect—and Ezra comes.

And Josiah wakes up. Stretched out. Naked.

It is incredibly hot.

He rubs his eyes. The sun is burning through the drawn curtains, and the room is all golden and gray. He's a little drunk, pleasantly so. Scotch, not ouzo. He hasn't been to Greece in nearly twenty years. This is Four Corners on a Wednesday afternoon in the middle of July.

It's quiet in the little room above the saloon; the voices below are like the dull, distant roar of the ocean. He wonders for a moment if Ezra's ever been to Greece and then remembers that Ezra's never been further east than New York. Hm. Maybe he'll take Ezra there someday. He'd like to think he could.

And here's the part where the feather bed dips because Ezra's rolling onto his side. And then here's the part where Ezra rolls over and wraps an arm around him and starts kissing him and kissing him and kissing him until he's dizzy. And here's the part where Ezra's mouth moves down.

Perfect.


End file.
